Approximate Directions to a Home
In the bizarre confluence of everyday life, I’m preparing to move apartments at the same time that inMotion is preparing to move facilities. This gives me a feeling of cottony affection for the disembodied twin-engine powerhouse where I work—we’re both looking with nervous excitement at what lies ahead, certain that we’re making the right choices but a little galled by the courage those choices require.
Even our reasons for moving are similar. inMotion has outgrown the workspace at 894 Boyd, both in body and in mind. Our client service staff has multiplied in the last two years. We work elbow-to-elbow around a half-moon desk in the front office, a space that’s been grafted onto our minds as irrevocably as the maps of our childhood. Our editors and animators in the back office are also shoehorned into too-small spaces, spinning their gold with only a wedge of sunlight refracted through the window to remind them of the spacious outside world.
So: we’re moving. And our search for a suitable space has taken us to the unlikeliest of places: right across the street, where a brand new studio with enough square footage to accommodate our future plans awaits us.
I, too, have outgrown my digs. I arrived in Ottawa two years ago and spent several agonizing weeks walking through filthy basements and overpriced high-rise lofts until I settled for a half-seedy, half-romantic bachelor pad a few blocks this side of the canal. It was a distant cousin of the stately attic studio I had planned for myself, but it was all I could find. Since then, I’ve grown. My book collection has grown. My cat, embarrassingly, has grown (this is a trend that I’m trying to curb). Though I love my snug little closet of an apartment, it’s truly time to move on.
And here’s the kicker: in a testament to how well inMotion folks suit each other and the great fun that we all have at work and play, I’m moving in with the uber-talented producer Han Nguyen, my friend and colleague. Even though we already spend every workday within two or three meters of each other, she has invited me (and my pot-bellied cat) to live with her while I look for a more permanent home that resonates with my own future plans.
inMotion has found its ideal space; I am still looking. But we’re both on the same track. As I sit here with my colleagues all around me, I feel it. That familiar sense of urgency vaulting me forward, and spilling me over with clichés: the future is waiting, and it’s got Ikea lighting.